


Watcher

by spacehopper



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Spoilers for Ep 102
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 03:47:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/pseuds/spacehopper
Summary: Elias watches and waits and wants.





	Watcher

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after the tape recorder shuts off at the beginning of TMA 102.

The tape recorder clicks off, and Jon doesn’t leave. He’s staring at Elias, brow furrowed. Someday, he’ll see. But for now they have words, so Elias speaks.

“I truly am sorry.”

“What? That my—” He stumbles over the word, still in denial, even as he comes ever closer to realizing what he has become. “—powers were unavailable to you? That I wasn’t here to serve your master?”

“Our master.” A correction Jon shouldn’t require, but that Elias is happy to provide. Jon sucks in a breath, glaring at the clock behind Elias. His eyes are ablaze with the knowledge he could unlock if only he’d dare try. 

“Don’t act like you care. I doubt you can anymore.” Instead of turning away, Jon steps closer. His shirt has come untucked, and as he leans over Elias’s desk, palms flat on the wood, a sliver of skin is exposed.

“Accepting my role does not mean I’ve lost my capacity for human emotion. This past month has been—” 

Rarely is he at a loss for words, and yet confronted with Jon here, distant across the oaken expanse, his mouth is dry, his tongue thick and clumsy. 

“What? What has it been, Elias?” 

A shock runs through him at the force behind the words, and he wants nothing more to tell Jon everything he has always desired to know. To see all, and to share it. 

“Difficult. Stressful. And not simply because you are the Archivist.”

A bitter bark of laughter erupts from Jon’s throat, and his elegant fingers curl. 

“Are you saying you care about me? Do you honestly expect me to believe that?”

He turns his back, leaning heavily against the desk, hands braced on the edge. And Elias can keep his distance no longer. Each footfall is heavy on the floor, echoing in the silence, until he faces Jon. His head is bowed, and his hair has fallen into his eyes. Elias itches to brush it away. 

“It’s true. What you believe is irrelevant.” 

“When have you even shown you give a damn about anyone?” His collar is askew under the wrinkled grey cardigan, and Elia has already given in.

“I watch, Jon.” His fingers curl around starched cotton, tugging it back into place. Jon tenses, but doesn’t pull away. Instead he rests a hand on Elias’s, and meets his eyes. 

“Watching isn’t good enough.” 

The clock ticks, but the tape recorder remains blessedly silent. Elias could easily dismiss Jon, send him on his way with a box of mysteries and creased papers. But the month Jon had been gone had been difficult. Stressful. 

And something inside him fractures.

“Fine. But if you continue down this path, I believe you’ll come to regret it.” A warning he doubts will be heeded.

“I don’t think I have much left to regret. So show me, Elias. Show me that you care.”

The movement is calculated, like all action Elias takes. The fingers that had fixed Jon’s collar now slide up the side of his neck, coming to rest on his thundering pulse. With his other hand he tilts Jon’s head back, angle precise, with no room for the errors caused by the clumsy clash of noses. And Jon lets him, just as he expected, because in these circumstances, Jon enjoys being led. Elias has watched him before. 

There is nothing tentative about the kiss, but he is gentle. Cautious. Jon had asked, but as with so many questions, he doesn’t know what he’s asking for. So Elias does not push, does not take, does not delve. He doesn’t grasp Jon’s hips to lift him on the desk, doesn’t bite at the sensitive skin under his ear. He enjoys the warmth of Jon’s lips, the scent of paper and ink, and the almost imperceptible sound of surprise. 

And then he watches, and waits, and listens. 

Jon can’t truly avoid looking at him, not with how they’re standing. And he isn’t trying to escape. His breathing is nearly normal, except for the way it catches when he says, “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” No, he’s certain Jon sees. He just doesn’t want to.

“What do you expect me to do?” His voice cracks, but instead of pulling away, he puts a hand on Elia’s wrist, holding him in place, sending a shock of excitement through him.

“About this? Nothing. I told you that you’d regret it. And on this point, action is immaterial.” Jon can leave, probably should leave, and they’ll never speak of this again. It’s what a sensible man would do. But Jon has never been sensible. It’s one of the things Elias hates about him, and one of the things he loves.

“Do you want to do it again?” Jon asks, fingers tightening around his wrist, digging into his flesh.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” He leans closer, and Jon sucks in a sharp breath.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” Incredulous. Elias doesn’t understand how he can maintain this level of naïveté. 

“I’m afraid not.” 

Jon licks his lips, braces a hand against the desk. Elias watches. Elias waits.

“Do you want to—” He looks away, baring the side of his throat, and it’s all Elias can do to resist sinking his teeth in. “—kiss me again?” 

Elias smiles. “Very much so.”

“Why?”

The force behind the word rushes through him, sending tingling sensations through his fingertips, along his arms and up his chest. His mind is awash in the clarity of being compelled, and he relishes what he says next.

“I know I can be harsh. But it’s only because I see your potential. You could be a truly great Archivist, far greater than Gertrude ever was. Circumstances dictate that you must progress far more rapidly than usual, but you’re making incredible progress. You are truly a remarkable man.”

He traces a finger over Jon’s lips. And for once, Jon is silent, as the clock ticks away.

“Are you going to kiss me again?”

“Am I?” Elias leans in, close enough to see the dark shadow across Jon’s cheeks, the stubble he hadn’t been able to shave away in his haste.

“Yes,” Jon says, then closes his eyes. And it’s all the invitation Elias needs. He is not gentle this time. Nor is he harsh. He has never lied about wanting to help Jon realize his potential, and this is no different, as he takes one of Jon’s hands and places it on the back of his neck, letting Jon control the kiss. And when his tongue brushes against Jon’s smooth lips, he lets them part, allowing Elias into the hot depths of his mouth, allowing Elias to know him, in this one way. And when Jon nips at the corner of his mouth, it’s Elias who gasps in delight. Because Jon knew.

The tape recorder clicks on.

“I—I need to go.” Jon ducks away, cheeks flushed, and Elias aches to pull him back. And he thinks, at this moment, it would take little in the way of persuasion. Jon could be compelled.

But Elias knows his place.

“Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“I’ll do that. Right.” The door snaps shut behind him, and Elias walks back behind his desk, and sinks into his chair. He reaches for the tape recorder and depresses a button.

It is not what the Eye would want, but that is not all Elias is.

Not yet.


End file.
